


Mine

by wraith17



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Obsessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5693218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraith17/pseuds/wraith17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Smith is hers and no one else can have him... Missy Smith takes till death do us part very seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was true what they said, the younger the animal the sweeter the meat. Missy Smith’s lips curl up in a secret smile, humming some sugary sweet lullaby under her breath as she cubes the meat for her husband’s meal. John would definitely be coming home for dinner tonight seeing his latest distraction was the main ingredient in their dinner tonight. Nothing that would be noticeably missing in the body, she wasn’t stupid after all. This would get him back she was positive. Once sweet, trashy Rose stopped texting and calling her husband all the time things would go back the way they were when Doctor John Smith was a dream and John Smith was all hers. Their house may have been small, their possessions cheap but he never ditched her for some doe eyed little strumpet. Oh, she knew Rose’s sort; young and eager to sink her claws into an already successful man for his money. No one could love her John more than she did and Missy made sure that no one else got the opportunity. 

“Mum, Dad’s home.” Missy’s daughter, Ashildr, comments dryly as she moodily makes her way into the kitchen, the ever present white apple earbuds showing starkly against the emo/goth look her daughter was sporting now a days.

Turning her head with a delighted grin on her face, Missy finishes up with Rose and places her in the wok, turning down the heat and rushing to the door to greet her husband, only pausing to pat her daughter’s cheek to regain her attention from her phone. “Stay downstairs, honey. Dinner isn’t too far off.”

Ashildr’s thick eyebrows furrow as her annoyed look transforms into dramatic sulking. “But Mother! You said I could go out with my friends!”

“Daughter,” Missy begins in a tone that leaves no room for argument. “Your father hasn’t been home for dinner in months. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

“Well I don’t want to see him.” Ashildr cries out. “He’s never home, he doesn’t care and he certainly doesn’t want to see me.”

Missy cups her daughter’s face in her hands, stroking gently over the skin like she did when she was a baby. The effect the same as it was then, Ashildr’s expression crumbling and she leans forward to rest her forehead on her mother’s shoulder. “Your father loves you very much, he works so hard so he could give us this lovely home and the lives we have. Just stay for dinner. You can go out with your friends after.”

The grumbling teenager mutters some kind of acceptance into Missy’s neck, her mother’s fingers spearing through her hair and gently tugging her back up. 

“Good girl, now stir the meat.” And with that she leaves both Ashildr and Rose in the kitchen, moving to the meet her husband at the door. 

“Darling,” Missy coos, flinging her arms around her husband’s neck and kissing his lips chastely. “Welcome home, I missed you.” A small pout adorning her face only for a moment when the joy wins out and she beams at him.

“I wasn’t gone that long, Missy. Just work.” John replies shortly, wrapping an arm distractedly around his bride’s slim waist. His nose wrinkles as he sniffs the air. “Mmm, something smells good. What are you making tonight?”

John lets go of his wife to remove his coat, setting down his briefcase by the door and wandering in the direction of the kitchen. Failing to see when Missy’s joyful expression falls, even in death Rose was getting in the way. Perhaps she should burn her.

“Nothing special dearest, nothing at all.” She says softly and trails after him, brushing imaginary lint off her apron.

John sniffs at the wok, stirring it a little, having taken the spoon from their daughter, as the meat sizzles inside. Missy presses herself against the length of his back, her slim arms wrapping around his waist and she nuzzles her nose into the soft silver hair curling against the ear closest to her. He doesn’t respond to her closeness, the focus of his attentions on Rose. This will not do.

“Sweetheart, let me do that. Go pour yourself a drink and I’ll just be a minute.” Missy coaxes gently, kissing the curve of her husband’s ear.

Nodding distractedly John shuffles out into the adjoining room, Missy waiting till he was gone before scowling down at the cubed meat in the wok, her perfectly painted upper lip curling in disgust she dumps the meat into a plastic bag, scrubbing down the still hot wok of all Rose’s presence and adds perfectly innocent beef cubes instead. Her husband would never know the difference. 

John meanders back into the kitchen, nursing a tumbler of whisky in his hand, the glass clinking against his wedding ring. “What are you doing?” He asks, impressive eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Oh, I dropped the salt shaker in the wok, spilt it everywhere.” She says casually, focusing on adding the vegetables to the dish instead of looking at her husband.

He doesn’t say anything more, exiting the room and going to change as per his routine, she can hear his footfalls on the stairs. 

Gripping the rim of the sink tightly with both hands Missy lets out a shuddering breath, it wasn’t supposed to go this way. He was supposed to come back to her, be hers again. When did she stop being the focus of his world? Why did he turn away from her? Sighing Missy plates up their dinner, setting the table immaculately, the large oak creating a gaping chasm between her, her daughter and her husband. A far cry from the tiny, rickety table they used to eat at, sitting so close together that their knees touched, their infant daughter using one of them as a seat while the other ate. Now they were barely together, if John even bothered to come home, as they ate the meals she prepared. Removing her apron and hanging it up on the little hook, Missy seats herself at one end of the table, beginning to eat without her husband out of habit more than anything else. Ashildr sitting in the chair next to her, the distance she was keeping from her father not lost on Missy. 

A few moments later John re-emerges from their bedroom, dressed in his favourite hole ridden jumper and track pants. Missy hadn’t worn anything like that in John’s presence since Ashildr was able to keep milk down as a baby. Pausing with her fork halfway to her mouth Missy gives her husband a small smile before breaking the eye contact. 

No more than five minutes into their meal John pipes up. “Why is that gunk on your face, Ashildr?” He asks, eyeing the dark makeup and clothes with clear disdain.

“That’s not my name!” Ashildr barks back before Missy can even think to defuse the situation. “My name is Me and it isn’t gunk!”

“Your name is Ashildr. It is the name your mother and I gave you when you were born and I will not call you that ridiculous thing to cater to your teenage identity crisis. You’ve got nothing to complain about Ashildr, you’ve been given everything. Stop behaving like a spoiled brat.”

Ashildr says nothing, her actions speaking louder than words as she flees the room, only pausing on her path to the front door to grab her bag, the heavy wood slamming shut behind her. Missy’s hope of a nice evening with her family smashed between the door and its frame as their daughter races out of the house. 

“Did you really need to do that?” Missy asks, her eyebrows pinching together in despair.

“Ashildr needs to learn respect, you spoil and indulge her far too much, Missy. She’s turning into an entitled brat. I won’t have it and get her to cut out this ‘Me’ nonsense.” Is the last proper sentence Missy manages to get from her husband before they all become a one word answers or grunts. 

Once finished with her meal, Missy starts clearing her side of the table, placing the dirty dishes in the dishwasher before hurrying up the stairs. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he was supposed to come home and talk to them again, be interested. Ashildr used to be so happy to see him, running up to her father in her footed pyjamas to so eager to greet him when he came home at a reasonable hour and they would be a family. What had she done wrong? Couldn’t he see that Ashildr shared more with him than just his eyebrows? She is just as stubborn and pig headed as he is. 

Stopping in front of the mirror, Missy approaches it looking over herself with a critical eye, letting thoughts of their daughter leave her mind and switches her focus to herself. Red manicured hands touching over her face, frowning as she takes in the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. She wasn’t the same pretty young thing she was twenty years ago, most men would be thrilled that their wife’s figure hadn’t diminished since their wedding day but John wasn’t most men. He’d only grown more handsome with age, a silver fox and he was surrounded by young little whores who would be only too willing to fuck her husband for at the very least a one night stand and at most to take her place. 

Sighing, Missy sits down at her vanity, unclasping her pearl necklace and taking off her rings. She wasn’t in the mood for an evening of being ignored as she trailed after her husband like a lost puppy. Ignoring his clothes on the floor, Missy changes out of her cream coloured blouse and black pencil skirt, heels kicked off haphazardly into the wardrobe and slips on her nightdress.

Missy screams as a warm palm caresses the bare skin of her midriff, flinching and banging back into the unseen person. Gasping Missy blushes red as the scent of oranges and honey hit her nose.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Her husband says softly, his hands not leaving her waist even as she frantically smooths down the fabric of her nightgown.

“Did you need something? I was just about to go to bed.”

John lifts her chin, looking intently into her pale blue eyes. “It’s only eight o’clock, Missy.” He says, brows furrowing in confusion. 

“I’m tired.” She replies distractedly, desperately trying to stamp down the impulse to cry and scream at him. 

“Are you trying to avoid me?” John asks in a hurt tone that Missy can’t suppress a mirthless chuckle at that. “What’s so funny?”

“That you really think that I’m the one trying to avoid you.” Missy says softly, stepping back out of her husband’s touch and sliding into the bed. She turns on her side, bitter and jealous, avoiding looking at him now. “You are the one avoiding us. You haven’t been home for dinner in months and the only thing you manage to say to our daughter is a criticism.”

“Missy.” John says softly, the bed dipping under his weight as he moulds himself to her back. “Look, I’m sorry. Thinks have been hectic at the hospital lately and my assistant just stopped coming into work.” He sighs softly and presses a light kiss to her bare shoulder, his warm breath rustling her curls. “I’ll take Friday off and we can spend the day together, okay? Just like we used to.” He says softly, Missy’s resistance melting and whatever misery had her keeping him at arm’s length disappeared with it. “And I’ll talk to Ashildr when she comes home.”

Missy rolls over, looking at her husband with a small, disbelieving smile on her lips. “Really? You promise?” She asks while scooting closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and meeting his lips halfway in a sweet kiss.

“I promise, love.” John replies once they’ve broken apart. “Now are you too tired to watch a movie?” 

Missy smiles, shifting herself in his arms to cuddle him tighter, her embrace reminiscent of an octopus’. “In a minute.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You promised me!” Missy screeches, all of her ladylike decorum lost as she and her husband stand by the front door, on Friday, her day, him putting on his jacket and scarf, ready to leave the house for work.

“It couldn’t be helped Missy, I’m needed for an emergency consultation.” John replies distractedly looking for his briefcase, refusing to look his distraught wife in the eye. 

“You said you would take the day off, promised we would spend it together. You lied to me!” 

“I got called in Missy, it couldn’t be avoided. That’s the end of it.” John says with finality, picking up his briefcase and slamming the door behind him. Leaving Missy in the house, screaming and venting out her rage, jealousy and despair. There was no way, no way in hell that he would make her a promise and then two days later break it. That just wasn’t her husband’s way. No, someone else put him up to this and she was going to find out who.

Missy would love to be able to say that this wasn’t a low point in her life; spying on her husband while he goes about his day in the hospital. She sits in his waiting room, no one knows who she is and as the sign instructs she waits. No one has come out of his office yet and if it was him she would tell him she decided to wait for him and spare him the trip home. Checking her phone for any new messages Missy sighs deeply, tucking it back into her purse and wondering what could be taking him so long. Who was he talking to? Did a single consult usually take this long? Missy didn’t know the answers to her questions her anxiety building up in her stomach, twisting it up and making her fidget, the more she allows her mind to ruminate. She probably looks more like her one of her husband’s patients instead of his wife.

“You must be Missy.” Greets a very distinctive British voice emanating from a hobbit’s body. Bright blue eyes looking up and raking over the newcomer, Missy drawing a blank on who this mystery girl could be, even the hospital issued name tag doesn’t help. ‘Clara Oswald’ isn’t someone her husband has ever mentioned to her before. “I’m Clara, paediatrics. John told me about you and Ashildr or is it still Me?” The tone is mocking and Missy bristles, back stiffening at the insult. No one has a go at her little girl and gets away with it.

“That makes one of us, my husband has never mentioned you before.”

“He’s not home all that often so I wouldn’t be surprised. He spends more time with me than with you.”

She understands the implication immediately, the deliberate use of the word ‘me’ over ‘the hospital’. Perhaps Rose wasn’t the one she should have served on a silver platter last night. It was as she feared, there was someone out to steal her husband, and it just may be that Rose wasn’t alone in her ambition.

“He is my husband and he always comes home to me and our daughter.” Missy stands, towering over the tiny, smug brunette with the calculating doe eyes, her voice low and dangerous, accent thickening in her growing anger.

The girl is not intimidated and smirks. “Not for long. Haven’t you noticed how much later he comes home, not hungry for the slop you provide and uninterested in your company? He doesn’t want you and your failure of a daughter anymore. He deserves better than an old trophy wife and I’ll give him everything you never could.”

The only thing that stops Missy from clawing out those big brown eyes from Clara’s smug skull and bashing her brains in on the coffee table is the appearance of her husband, his impressive eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Missy? What are you doing here?”

Straightening up Missy crosses over to John, a sweet smile on her lips. “I came to save you the trip home, love. You promised me the day and I will keep you to that.”

Surprisingly John doesn’t protest, his briefcase in hand he nods at Clara with a small, yet warm smile that Missy loathes. “I’ll see you later, Clara.” And with that leads Missy from his office and back to his car. “How did you get here?”

“Our daughter dropped me off so we could be together.”

“And where is she?” John demands crossly.

“Out with her friends, darling.” Missy replies in the same calm and controlled tone she uses with Ashildr when she is being difficult.

“And you let her after the way she spoke to me last night?” 

Now he’s offended, his eyebrows furious and he looks down at her in the way that makes her feel like she’s done something wrong. Missy holds her lower lip between her teeth, waiting for him to calm down before continuing in a soft voice.

“It’s just a phase love, remember when she was obsessed with ‘The Lion King’, crawled around the house in her play suit pretending to be a lion and only responded to Nala? This is the same thing, it will pass. The more you hate and rail against it the longer she will cling to it.” Missy smooths the lapels of her husband’s coat. “Don’t worry, she’ll be back to wearing colours and referring to herself as Ashildr in no time.” A soft kiss against his lips is the last thing needed before her husband’s tight expression falls and he just looks exhausted.

“I worry about her. Maybe I wasn’t around enough when she was small.” It’s funny he should say that as her husband suddenly transforms before her eyes from the older, grey haired man to the skinny and small shy little boy she’s spent her life with.

“Darling, you’ve given our girl everything her heart desires. You’re a wonderful father, Ashildr knows that. She’s just a teenager and just like you when you were her age.” Missy teases gently and boops his nose.

John snorts in amusement. “Really? Because if I recall correctly it was you who was always getting us into trouble and being cheeky.”

“Yes I just had the brains not to get caught my Theta.” The old nickname falls naturally from her smiling lips, her husband and oldest friend leaning forward to rest his forehead on hers.

“Oh Koschei, whatever will I do with you?” He replies fondly, wrapping his arms around her slim shoulders and holding her close. For a moment, everything is perfect, they are just as they used to be;the only two in the universe and Missy relishes his embrace more certain than ever that Clara is the last obstacle in the way of her happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

As expected, it only takes a few days for John to fall back into old habits, to stop coming home before midnight and his receptionist to start calling her again to inform her that ‘Doctor Smith is working late’ and Missy can put her plan into action. So when the call comes again she’s ready. Quietly stepping into her daughter’s dark bedroom Missy stands beside the slumbering body, gently tucking the blanket up over Ashildr’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to her brow and picks up the empty glass Missy gave her daughter to take her sleeping pills before she went to bed. The tablets would ensure that her daughter didn’t wake up until the morning, leaving Missy free to carry out her plan and Ashildr wouldn’t notice that she had even left the house.

 

“Sleep well, darling. Don’t worry, Mummy will take care of everything.” Missy murmurs softly, stroking back the dark hair from her forehead before leaving the bedroom and quietly shutting the door behind her. Picking up her purse Missy slips out the door, snipping the lock on it and heading to her car. It wasn’t difficult for Missy to find where Clara lived, the little whore having made it so easy to find that even her oblivious husband would notice an open invitation. Little did Clara know that it would be her and not her husband answering the invitation to come over and play. Her pulse is pounding through her veins, mouth dry and thoughts swirling and clashing against each other in her head a mile a minute. This is it, the last time I need to do this. Missy tells herself, the mantra she’s repeated each time she finds herself in this situation. Parking her car on the street not far from Clara’s house Missy takes a moment to calm herself, inhaling shakily as the doubt rears its ugly head. What if it wasn’t enough this time? Just like all the other times she thinks of her family; the one she’d chosen over a successful career and the trust fund from her parents that could have been hers with the condition that she divorced her husband. Missy takes a shuddering, deep breath, stealing herself and slipping on the little booties to keep her shoes clean of anything in Clara’s apartment that could tie her to the location. Slipping the needle loaded with insulin out of her purse Missy uncaps it and knocks on the door four times in quick succession, the noise echoing around in her head.

 

_Thump, thump, thump, thump._

Muscles tense and ready to pounce Missy waits for her moment and as soon as the door is open a crack Missy shoves herself at it, forcing it open and throws herself with a snarl on the unsuspecting brunette. Clara falls back as the full weight of a furious Missy slams into her, her head colliding with an audible crack on the wooden floors. Missy wastes no time with gloating or banter, getting straight to business, lifting the needle high above her head and swings it hard at Clara’s chest. Her intension to force the needle deep into Clara’s flesh, her face twists from that of sweet and loving housewife to savage and unhinged killer.

 

“I won’t let you destroy my family!” She screeches in Clara’s face, spittle flying and it is only then that Clara has probably realised the price she was going to pay for losing the game.

 

“Please don’t do this! I won’t! I’ll leave John alone, just please, please don’t kill me!” Clara begs as a last resort.

 

“Yes you will, they’ll find your body in a few days when you stop coming into work, break down your door only to find your rotting corpse in the bath, wrists slit. Poor Clara unable to cope with the stresses of her job and her failure to steal what belongs to _me!_ ” Missy hisses in a dark tone filled with glee at the sight of smug little Clara pinned underneath her and begging for her life.

 

“No, no please!” Clara begs, snot and tears running down her face Missy grinning as she sees the epiphany on Clara’s face, she knew it was hopeless and she was going to die because she had bitten off more than she could chew. Clara had underestimated her and now it is going to cost her everything, including something she’d never thought she would lose.

 

Missy grins in feral excitement as she can see and feel the muscles in Clara’s arms shaking and yielding under the strain of trying to hold off her superior attack. The tip of the needle is so close now, the metal glinting in the light and Missy feels euphoria burst through her veins, she wins.

 

“No!” Missy screams in protest and fury as two strong arms forcibly pull her off her mark. “Put me down! I need to do this! She’s going to destroy my family!” She swings around to clock her assailant in the head when she sees his face, her husband’s face. No.

 

“Melissa stop! Get a hold of yourself!” John shouts, his voice dull and muffled as if he was speaking underwater, Missy freezing in horror. No, no, no. He was never supposed to find out.

 

Missy goes slack in her husband’s arms, her eyes swimming with tears. She’s failed, it’s over. Even the needle sticking out of Clara’s chest is a hollow victory, now her husband is here she can’t finish off Clara’s unconscious body. She’s lost, after everything she’s done, everything she’s sacrificed while desperately trying to hold her family together was in vain.

 

“Why? Why would you do this?” John shouts, spinning his wife in his arms, shaking her like a ragdoll. The underwater feeling lifts and Missy laughs psychotically in her husband’s face, after everything he still doesn’t get it.

 

“For you!” She screams in his face, eyes wide and crazy. Her husband taking a step back as, for the first time in her life, she tells him how she really feels. “Everything I’ve ever done has been for you! The only job I’ve ever had was to support your way through university, I never got my PhD because you wanted me to stay at home and raise the baby. Any and every dream and ambition I’ve ever had I had to give up for our family! You ignore me, barely come home and, and she was going to take you away, she swore she’d stop at nothing to have you!” She sobs hysterically, tears streaming down her face.

 

John stares at her, expression firm and angry. “That doesn’t excuse this! You can’t just kill people because you think they’re a threat Missy! There are laws! And besides, Clara is just a colleague!”

 

“Not for long.” Comes the slurred answer from the floor, Clara’s eyes unfocused but determined to say her piece. “I had a plan, you know John. You were going to be mine. It was already working, you were going to leave her. Choose now John, her or me.”

 

“John.” Missy speaks up in a broken voice, a razor now in her hand, the very one she’d intended to use on Clara and she sniffles as she takes her husband’s hand and guides both it and the razor to her jugular. “If she is who you want please, just kill me. I, I can’t, I have nothing if I don’t have you. Just, tell Ashildr I love her.” A bead of blood wells up from where the razor is touching her and runs down her pale throat in a slow red drip.

 

She can see the despair in every part of John’s face as his weary eyes look between her and Clara and she can practically hear the guilty thoughts as he thinks of two of them; one he’d driven to murder and madness and the other he’d encouraged in his ignorance. Relinquishing her hold on the razor Missy tilts her head back, bearing her throat to the razor’s deadly kiss, ready to accept her death by his hands. She is surprised when there is no sharp pain, no rush of hot blood spilling down her front, only John easing it away from her and letting it drop harmlessly to the floor. She gasps as she finds herself being brought into a fierce hug, her bright blue eyes wide as she returns his embrace, her hands coming up and nails clinging to his coat as he looks down at Clara. _Mine, all mine_.

 

“I’m sorry Clara, I don’t love you I never have. Missy and I, we’ve been together all our lives, we have a family and its time I acted like that means something.”

 

Fortunately for them both Clara passes out before she can reply, John letting go of her to bend down and pull the needle free from Clara’s chest with a swift tug. Taking his phone out of his pocket Missy stands by still as a statue as John calls an ambulance and gives them Clara’s address. She allows him to move her around the apartment getting rid of any evidence against anything more than an accident befalling Clara. Missy sits awkwardly beside her husband on Clara’s couch, the whole time clinging to his arm even as they get to the car once the paramedics have left.

 

“Did you mean it?” She asks in a shy and vulnerable tone.

 

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” Her husband replies, expression pained, pecking the top of Missy’s head and guides her into the passenger’s seat. She doesn’t speak the whole way home, swaying slightly and her eyes unfocused and bloodshot. The shame and humiliation runs deep inside her, so scared that even though John didn’t choose Clara he would still turn her over to the police for what she tried to do.

 

Once the car stops outside their house Missy practically flees his presence, racing upstairs to Ashildr’s room, climbing in beside her and curling around her daughter like she did when Ashildr was small, unwell and in need of her mother’s comfort. Missy’s thumb strokes gently over her eyebrow, smoothing down the hair and smiling a little as her child burrows against her chest. Her husband’s heavy footfalls come up the stairs, Missy clutching Ashildr tighter to her breast as he pushes open the door and comes to stand by the bed, holding a packet of pills in his hand. He kneels down on the carpet, gently placing his hand on her forearm.

 

“It’s okay. They’re just a sedative.” He says in a gentle tone she hasn’t heard directed at her in a while. “I’m going to help you.” His blue grey eyes look up at her beseechingly, asking her to trust him.

 

Stroking Ashildr’s dark hair gently Missy holds out her hand for the pills, deciding that death by John’s hands would be much preferable to the rest of her life in prison, should he choose to turn her over to the police. Being unable to be with him or their daughter and having to live with John once again choosing something else over her, for Missy, is a fate worse than death. Dry swallowing them she lays down her head, tucking Ashildr’s head under her chin and whispering in a hoarse voice.

 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you chose not to.”

 

“I made you a promise all those years ago, at our wedding, to be with you forever and not a second shorter. I intend to keep that promise. I’ll be here when you wake up, it’s okay to go to sleep. I’ll take care of you both, you don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be the husband you deserve, the one you need me to be.”

 

“Okay.” Missy says groggily, letting the sedative do its job, resting her chin on the top of her daughter’s head as her vision blurs and she goes slack in Morpheus’ embrace.

 

-/-

 

Never has Missy ever been so happy in her life, although that might have something to do with the medication her husband prescribed to her, it was mostly attributed to him keeping his word and putting their family first for a change; he came home on time, no more overtime or cancelled plans. Everything is now like it used to be when they were younger, just as Missy predicted colours came back into Ashildr’s wardrobe, her name changing back from ‘Me’ and she took to spending more time at home when her father would come home. Clara recovered from her injuries and didn’t remember anything regarding of that night. Her family is safe and secure, not perfect, particularly between John and Ashildr, but they were improving and getting closer.

 

Missy looks up from the cutting board, setting down the sharp knife as Ashildr announces her return home from school. Coming into the kitchen and retrieving a snack from the cupboard. “Put it back, darling. You’ll spoil your dinner… You’re home early.”

 

Ashildr rolls her eyes before doing as her mother asks and leans against the counter top closest to where Missy is standing. “Dad picked me up from school.” She says with a small, pleased grin. “We had lunch and I met his new assistant.”

 

“Oh?” Missy asks with a sudden interest, her ice blue eyes not wavering from her daughter’s face as she shrugs and continues nonchalantly.

 

“Yeah, Dad forgot his phone in his rooms and she came to the restaurant to bring it to him. She’s nice in a desperate way I suppose, really looks up to Dad. It’s quite funny actually, Dad’s got a fangirl.”

 

Missy’s pleasant expression freezes on her face, it looking strained and cold. “I’m glad you had a good time with your father, Ashildr. Now go wash up for dinner and set the table.”

 

Ashildr nods, pecking her mother on the cheek before going to do as she was told. Leaving Missy in the kitchen, the manic look in her eyes free to come out now she was alone. No, no. This would not do. John is hers and she will-

 

“Hi honey.” John says, appearing suddenly by her side to kiss her temple. “What’s for dinner?”

 

“Veal, you know I like the taste of sweet, young meat.” She says with a smile even as her husband pokes her bottom lip with her pill cup.

 

“Yes, yes I do.” He looks nervous even as Missy obediently swallows her pills.

 

 _Mine_.


End file.
